


Love, Time and Pain

by Spoonsie2



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sadness, and gets too wrapped up in himself, cyclonus has too much time to himself, other characters but they don't actually talk so no tags, tagged as "gen" because it's not major-major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 14:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonsie2/pseuds/Spoonsie2
Summary: You waited.You promised and you waited.Waiting among the dregs of society.Waiting for the one who made you feel alive.(Rewrite of a drabble)





	Love, Time and Pain

You had been resolute and steadfast, never wavering from your core values since the day you came online.

You had aligned yourself with the Decepticon leader; Megatron.   
Although for you he was wrong.

All wrong.

This was not the Decepticon leader. Not in your optics. Never.

He was not the proud powerful warrior you had sworn allegiance to.  
The one who stood before you as you all stood beneath the watchful gaze of an entity far stronger than the universe dared know.

No, this was a snivelling, manipulative creep that paled in comparison to the glory you knew.  
You hated it.

It twisted your internals up into a fit of disgust.  
Even when you stood in front of the grey disgrace, hand on your symbol swearing loyalty to the fool.  
So wrapped up in his own ideals he barely noticed how you looked at him with cool contempt.

The event that brought you here and put you in this situation...  
You had ended up falling a great distance into a place known as New Kaon, your damaged body being repaired by those who resided there.  
Centuries started to go by.  
Senseless, purposeless centuries.

Cyclonus noted just how nihilistic he had started becoming.  
Distaste of your current situation and knowledge of certain futile events had begun twisting themselves into deadpan barbs spat at those you were made to work with.

Centuries became millennia and Cyclonus watched himself become a dispassionate mess.  
Where did his passion for the Decepticon cause go?  
Probably eroded away after spending so long with these primitive ‘cons.

And being without the charismatic lead you had so eagerly followed, the smiling purple plates that had lead you to victories and so much more.  
Instead of being lead by a grey menace whose callous smirk was one of a mecha looking for his own fulfilment rather than that of his cause.

You didn’t get along well with Oil Slick but that was okay.  
You knew what was going to happen to him.

The rest of Team Chaar was manageable as long as you avoided prolonged exposure to them.  
So it probably didn’t come as any surprise that when that foolish leader Megatron failed, and Team Chaar broke up. Everyone bar Strika and Oil Slick were replaced.  
Including you.

Though by that time you had developed a rather apathetic personality and you weren't at all bothered by it and accepted the decision with a cold nod and a small grunt, reminding them their fate will remain the same.   
Although the abnormal flatness of emotions bothered you more than being kicked out of the team.

Even then it didn’t bother you enough to be bothered enough to do something about it, and that bothered you further but now your processor hurt.  
A loop of disinterest and gnawing anger clawing through your spark.

You had to do something about it.  
You were proud and strong once, leading the charge against Autobots at your true leader's command.

Feeling there was no hope for yourself now, the only hope you had was to prevent any of this from ever happening.

Prevent yourself from becoming this.

Prevent this set of churning, confusing emotions from ever taking root in your tired fed up processor.

You chose to wait.  
It was all you had right now.

Nihilism and apathy threatened constantly to take back the twinge of hope you had at altering your situation.   
It was hard to hold them back from smothering the tiny bit of hope left in you.

Especially as there was no one there who understood. Just misguided fools.

You were alone here.

You watched from afar as attempts were made and thwarted at freeing Megatron from where he had been imprisoned.

You had even been brought along on one.  
It failed.  
Not that it mattered.

Time was a cruel mistress and the term 'life cycle’ felt appropriate as Cyclonus felt his life cycling through the same days, over and over again on a non-stop replay.

The same morning, the same refuelling, the same rations, the same fights and arguments.

So long had passed that by now even your swords had rusted away until nothing but the hilt remained of them; replacing and repairing parts on them a fruitless endeavour.   
Although you had left a majority of one sword’s blade in a small Autobot’s back. That was a good hit, you actually felt a smile creep back when that happened as you watched the howling, bleeding mess get taken down.

Before you knew it, missions became fewer and fewer.  
Free time for a mech such as Cyclonus was numbing his processor.  
It was not for a proud warrior such as yourself.

Though now you were a warrior to none.

A warrior in a sea of despots and fools, waiting for your true lord to return and restore what was right.

You were not so sure why other Decepticons had started sneering at you.   
Or why such young ones started crowding around you and asking about tales of survival and stories of battles since passed.

Shooing away or threatening them didn’t work, and when it did new ones filled their place.

You wanted to tell them stories sometimes.

Why wouldn’t you?  
Tell them the tales about the TRUE and PROPER leader of the Decepticons, and the glory that awaits them.

They didn’t want that though.

Little brats.

You were now practically bound to the base.  
Never leaving it halls, left to stew in your own emotions.  
So what? You didn’t care, quite befitting a bitter, apathetic fool such as yourself.

Eventually, for the first time in aeons, your apathy began to fade away long enough for new emotions to flow through your systems.

It had been so long since you had felt any of them that it practically hurt as eager hope and happiness pulsed through you like a raging fire that bled through your very being.

For the first time in many, many years you felt… alive.

Transforming had started to hurt now but you didn’t care you had to go.  
NOW.

A massive battle had occurred on the other side of the known Universe as a new planet glimmered in the sky leaving nothing but a void in its wake.

Along with it, someone new had arisen to take the Decepticon throne and in their wake Oil Slick’s corpse joined others in a gory culling of unfit Decepticons.

There was only one reason for this.

The journey took twice as long as it should have.  
Engines struggled to put out adequate levels of force as you streaked through the stars.

Cyclonus regretted not going to the medic in such a long time, maybe he should’ve gone to that regular check-up...

It was a new gleaming citadel.  
Glimmering, shining, beautiful.  
Tall buildings built with large doorways and high ceilings designed for all to use.  
Streets wide for walking or driving whichever locomotion a groundpounder desired with plenty of space to spare; while tall the buildings curved and branched out creating delicate airways for seekers to swoop and glide through, stretched balconies available for easy landing allowing access for fliers straight from the skies.

A Decepticon Utopia, just as you remembered it.

Transforming and landing on one of the main streets, many Decepticons looked at you with a dash of confusion but mainly indifference as Cyclonus spent a few seconds stuck in a crouched position.

The landing had caused something to pop in one of your knee joints. Cold pain sensations washed over the affected area but self-repair systems did nothing in response.

The Orns spent travelling here had obviously worn down on your systems. Nothing more.

The memories of this place flooded your processor with such force Cyclonus felt as if his optics and spinal strut were going to melt from the building heat as his spark thrummed stronger than ever before.

Ignoring the damage to the knee joint you power down the city streets as fast as you could with such a limp.

As you ascended through the buildings, forced to use slopes and elevators to ease the pain on your ailing joints the entire city was spread out before you.

There was a sight that made your spark clench with sharp fear.  
A bright green Death crystal was in storage, it was being prepared for use in a giant cannon.

You remember that.

The crystal… it was so hard to get.  
Guarded by monsters and a group of aliens with their slaves.

It undoubtedly drew the attention of the Autobots who didn’t need much prompting to know for what kind of purpose the crystal was being taken for.  
The clue was in the name.

But if it was already so close to being ready for use, then you barely had any time left.

Joints sent screaming pain notifications to your processor as you started running, alas by now what you called running was more of a hobble.

When WAS the last time you went for a check-up?.

The highest room in the tower seemed to be days away at this rate.  
It wasn’t guarded, there was no need.   
Anyone foolish to go in there with the intent to kill was going to join Oil Slick.

Cyclonus wasn’t sure when his air intakes became so bad at cycling air through his systems.  
Pushing through the door you fell to the floor, body way beyond exhausted.

“Whoa, steady on there fellow” A calming voice cooed in a concerned, friendly manner.

That voice.

That voice.

It was just as you remembered.

Nihilism melted away in an instant as tears streamed uncontrollably down your faceplates.

“Oh my” The voice cooed again, a hand was held close to you.  
Cyclonus was shaking as he touched the outstretched hand.

It was real.

“Galvatron…” your aching vocal unit croaked as you were pulled shakily to your feet.  
Taller than Megatron with a tri-pointed crest, Galvatron smiled at you with sincere optics.

“Indeed, to what do I owe the honour, Sir?” Galvatron smiled, his charm had helped him win so many Decepticons over when you both had appeared, along with Scourge.

“S-sir?” You gasped, no, not you, you were not worth being referred to as 'sir’, not from him. Not from your master not after you dared to stupidly lose hope in him.

Galvatron was still smiling at you. Concern across his faceplates.

There were not any words in your processor that you felt adequate for this situation.

It had taken so long for you to hear about this event finally occurring, and then so long to reach here it had left you with such little time.

You had not even noticed you were still holding his hand.  
Tightly.  
As if he would vanish at any moment.

Just being in his presence.  
The presence that was everything you remember it to be.  
A presence that had made you happy. Made you feel energized.  
A presence that you had cared for so deeply that even your most closest of touches had not come close.

It left you speechless to be here after so long.  
The tears wracked your body as it offered no resistance to the shuddering shakes that ran through it, shaking with enough force to make your wings rattle.

“Are you alright?” Galvatron helped you stand up in a sturdier position, propped up against him “A basic scan does show you to have damaged your knee joint?”

“I’m fine” You weakly protested, the urge to warn him melting away as desperation made you lean into his hold “It has been so long” you murmured barely able to prevent yourself from losing yourself in his touch.

You had waited, longed, for this for so so long.

Galvatron smiled and nodded, confusing you, why was he not reacting to you?

“S… Sir please…” you gasped “Don’t stay here! Don’t stay!” Galvatron cocked his head

“Ah do not fear venerable Decepticon! This city is under my rule, a safe haven for us to reside in until we can conquer the rest of the Universe! And with the Crystal Cannon near completion, we will have an empire to rule!” Galvatron gestured to the city below, spread out before them through a wall-sized window and balcony.

“No! Autobots!” You gasped angrily and sharply, the mention of your enemies caused Galvatron to snap round to look at you “Sir, please! It’s not safe! They have a trap set up! Just leave, please! Why won’t you listen to me!?” You yelled desperately confusion and panic coiling around your spark.

“Autobots!? You know of their trap? Where? Where is it!?” Galvatron clasped your soldiers

“Just leave! Please! Why won’t you listen to me!? Am I not your second? Why?” Desperation made you bleat pathetically.

“What? My second?” Galvatron suddenly started laughing “Oh my I am sorry! You are low on Energon too! You’re delirious my good sir!. Cyclonus is right here! You are most certainly not him old mech!” His voice almost seemed to growl out the last part as if you had disrespected him. 

Sure enough Cyclonus, you, glided in through the window and bowed

“My Master” You heard your own voice croon in your smooth manner “The weapon is almost ready for your use”

He, no, you, looked at you.

Your own optics staring back at you.

Your own tall, dark frame standing fresh, new and proud not jaded by years of loneliness.

It was something that you knew would happen, there was a big chance of meeting yourself but it was incredibly jarring in-person and the mental preparation you had done failed as you panted, worried.

“Please” You gasped hoping you would listen to yourself “Leave! Save yourselves! I Beg of you! Don’t you recognize me!?” You limped forwards towards yourself, you would listen to yourself surely. “PLEASE!” It took most of your energy to yell that at yourself.

The other Cyclonus, the other you, took a step back.

“Do not mind him” Galvatron came over and wrapped his arm around the other you’s waist. Just how you remember it, firm, warm and caring “This mech appears to be hallucinating it seems, don’t be so harsh on him, he has been living a long life and has earned the rest we can provide him in our soon-to-be empire! He will feel better and calmer once he has been looked after” He smiled.

And you smiled.

You were being smiled at by yourself.

“No please!”

“He thinks there’s a trap set by Autobots” Galvatron explained and the other you nodded as if that explained everything.

“No… no…. please don’t let it happen…. I don’t want to live this life…” Joyous tears had long since turned to tears of desperation, sorrow and sadness.

“SWEEP!” Galvatron barked and one promptly trundled into the room. A Sweep was never too far away.

“Yes my lord!” It obediently saluted.

“Take this elderly mech down to a respite chamber, I’m sure the climb up here has worn him out. Oh, and make sure a medic can see to him soon”

The Sweep bowed so far and quickly it looked as if it had bent to ninety-degrees.   
The soldier quickly scooped you up in its large wing strut and claws gently wrapped around your weeping form as it gently manoeuvred you from the room.

Tears made your optics blurry but you saw Galvatron return to the other you, holding onto his hands as he did yours not so long ago.

The touches you would come to remember so longingly while crammed into a dingy Decepticon barracks with curs who didn’t even know the name 'Galvatron’.

It was doomed to happen now.

You failed.

A miserable failure.

You turned to the Sweep, hoping that maybe, just maybe it could help you. It couldn’t. It was merely a lowly member of the pack and was following its orders.

“Leave me” You found yourself begging. It didn’t, orders were orders.  
Powerless to do nothing but to follow it’s lead you chanced a glance in the reflective surface of the well-polished walls.

No wonder he didn’t recognise you.

The shock made you stumble and the Sweep paused, it’s familiar pink energon-stained claws remained upon your spinal strut holding you steadily as you regained balance shuffling towards your reflection.

Paint job, practically gone.   
Horns bent and crooked beyond recognition, when did they get so blunt? So worn down? When did one lose a chunk?.   
Wing Struts crumpled and worn.   
Lines etched deeply into your faceplates.

Oh.

You had vowed to wait an eternity for your chance at redemption.

And you had.

The Sweep carefully moved you away from the wall and you could barely process what was going on let alone protest.  
Soon he placed you gently upon a resting chair.

“If It puts your processor at rest, you do have a familiar scent to you” the Sweep finally spoke.  
You didn’t care and it left.

There was nothing left to do but slowly creak outside to watch the horrible event that caused your misery happen all over again.

Right on cue.

The fighting.

The Sweep swarms dismembering the first few waves of Autobot troopers before many Decepticons even got a chance at them.

The Cannon was rushing to a startup in an attempt to use it before the Autobots got to it.

There was you and Galvatron fighting alongside each other, just as you remember.  
In sync, your strikes were perfect and wonderful.  
The kind of exhilarating fight for glory you were denied as waited.

Buildings fell and people from both factions whizzed past you.

You were transfixed as it all happened again.

The Space bridge the Autobots had hidden to bring most of their forces through once the attack started began activating again.

The Cannon glowed green as it powered up but Autobot charges detonated at the base and sent it toppling into the bridge.

There you were.

Screaming through the sky, smoke and ashes, watching yourself repeat the event that turned you into a dispirited fool for aeons.

The bridge exploded and the Cannon fired.

Even viewing it from a different angle you saw only what you had seen the first time around.  
You watched yourself get enveloped in the explosion and buzzing tachyons and Galvatron… Galvatron got engulfed by a green shaft of energy from the Cannon.

It was worse now.

You saw it happen in full, not just a brief flash before you slipped through time and space.

While you screamed helplessly a few Sweeps quickly grabbed your arms

“Yes, this one is familiar” One spoke a few others muttered something in agreement.

“Let’s pull him away before that explosion destroys us all!" You were now being flown away by a small flock of Sweeps.

Watching the smouldering remains where the few survivors still fought.  
Maybe you could try to catch a glimpse of Galvatron once more.

Maybe he survived.

He had to have survived.

He couldn’t have...

The Cannon might have misfired.

But you couldn’t see.

Old weary optics stained by tears and clouded by ash and smoke saw nothing but the battlefield get further and further away as you were brought along with the retreating Decepticons.  
Now to live, forever knowing you failed with the one chance you had left.


End file.
